"You're finally free, my friend," Raoden said with a wan smile as he watched Ien float and bob. He still hadn't been able to get even a flicker of recognition from the Seon, though Ien did seem to stay in Raoden's general vicinity. Whatever the Shaod had done to Ien, it had taken away more than just his voice. It had broken his mind.
"I think I know what's wrong with him," Raoden said to Galladon, who sat in the shade a short distance away. They were on a rooftop a Few buildings down from the chapel, ejected from their habitual place of study by an apologetic Kahar. The old man had been cleaning furiously in the days since his arrival, and the time had finally come for the final polishing. Early in the morning he had contritely, but insistently, thrown them all out so he could finish.
Galladon looked up from his book. "Who? The Seon?"
Raoden nodded, lying on his stomach near the edge of what was once a garden wall, still watching Ien. "His Aon isn't complete."
"Ien." Galladon said thoughtfully. "That's healing. Kolo?"
"That's right. Except his Aon isn't complete anymore—there are tiny breaks in its lines, and patches of weakness in its color."
Galladon grunted, but didn't offer anything more; he wasn't as interested in Aons or Seons as Raoden was. Raoden watched Ien for a few more moments before turning back to his study of the AonDor book. He didn't get far, however before Galladon brought up a topic of his own.
"What do you miss most, sule?" the Dula asked contemplatively.
"Miss most? About the outside?"
"Kolo," Galladon said. "What one thing would you bring here to Elantris if you could?"
"I don't know," Raoden said. "I'd have to think about it. What about you?"
"My house," Galladon said with a reminiscent tone. "I built it myself, sule.Felled every tree, worked every board, and pounded every nail. It was beautiful—no mansion or palace can compete with the work of one's own hands."
Raoden nodded. imagining the cabin in his mind. What had he owned that he missed the most strongly? He had been the son of a king, and had therefore had many possessions. The answer he came up with, however, surprised him.
"Letters," he said. "I'd bring a stack of letters."
"Letters, sule?" It obviously hadn't been the response he had been expecting. "From whom?"
"A girl."
Galladon laughed. "A woman, sale? I never figured you for the romantic type."
"Just because I don't mope around dramatically like a character from one of your Duladen romances doesn't mean I don't think about such things."
Galladon held up his hands defensively. "Don't get DeluseDoo on me, sule.I'm just surprised. Who was this girl?"
"I was going to marry her," Raoden explained.
"Must have been some woman."
"Must have been," Raoden agreed. "I wish I could have met her."
"You never met her?"
Raoden shook his head. "Hence the letters, my friend. She lived in Teod—she was the king's daughter, as a matter of fact. She started sending me letters about a year ago. She was a beautiful writer, her words were laced with such wit that couldn't help but respond. We continued to write for the better part of five months; then she proposed."
"She proposed to you?" Galladon asked.
"Unabashedly," Raoden said with a smile. "It was of course, politically motivated. Sarene wanted a firm union between Teod and Arelon."
"And you accepted?"
"It was a good opportunity," Raoden explained. "Ever since the Reod, Teod has kept its distance from Arelon. Besides. those letters were intoxicating. This last year has been ... difficult. My father seems determined to run Arelon to its ruin, and he is not a man who suffers dissent with patience. But, whenever it seemed that my burdens were too great, I would get a letter from Sarene. She had a Seon too, and after the engagement was formalized we began to speak regularly. She would call in the evenings, her voice drifting from Ien to captivate me. We left the link open for hours sometimes."
"What was that you said about not moping around like a character from a romance?" Galladon said with a smile.
Raoden snorted, turning back to his book. "So, there you have it. If I could have anything, I'd want those letters. I was actually excited about the marriage even if the union was just a reaction to the Derethi invasion of Duladel."
There was silence.
"What was that you just said, Raoden?" Galladon finally asked in a quiet voice.
"What? Oh, about the letters?"
"No. About Duladel."
Raoden paused. Galladon had claimed to have entered Elantris a "few months" ago, but Dulas were known for understatement. The Duladen Republic had fallen just over six months previously....
"I assumed you knew," Raoden said.
"What, sule?" Galladon demanded. "Assumed I knew what?"
"I'm sorry, Galladon." Raoden said with compassion, turning around and sitting up. "The Duladen Republic collapsed."
"No," Galladon breathed, his eyes wide.
Raoden nodded. "There was a revolution like the one in Arelon ten years ago, but even more violent. The republican class was completely destroyed, and a monarchy was instituted."
"Impossible.... The republic was strong—we all believed in it so much."
"Things change. my friend," Raoden said, standing and walking over to place a hand on Galladon's shoulder.
"Not the republic, sule," Galladon said. his eyes unfocused. "We all got to choose who ruled, sule. Why rise up against that?"
Raoden shook his head. "I don't know—not much information escaped. It was a chaotic time in Duladel, which is why the Fjordell priests were able to step in and seize power."
Galladon looked up. "That means Arelon is in trouble. We were always there to keep the Derethi away from your borders."
"I realize that."
"What happened to Jesker?" he asked. "My religion, what happened to it?"
Raoden simply shook his head.
"You have to know something!"
"Shu-Dereth is the state religion in Duladel now." Raoden said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Galladon's eyes fell. "It's gone then."
"There are still the Mysteries." Raoden offered weakly.
Galladon frowned, his eyes hard. "The Mysteries are not the same thing as Jesker, sule. They are a mockery of things sacred. A perversion. Only outsiders—those without any sort of true understanding of the Dor—practice the Mysteries."
Raoden left his hand on the grieving man's shoulder, unsure how to comfort him. "I thought you knew," he said again. feeling helpless.
Galladon simply groaned, staring absently with morose eyes.
¤ ¤ ¤
RAODEN left Galladon on the rooftop: the large Dula wanted to be alone with his grief. Unsure what else to do, Raoden returned to the chapel, distracted by his thoughts. He didn't remain distracted for long.
"Kahar, it's beautiful!" Raoden exclaimed, looking around with wonder.
The old man looked up from the corner he had been cleaning. There was a deep look of pride on his face. The chapel was empty of sludge; all that remained was clean, whitish gray marble. Sunlight flooded through the western windows, reflecting off the shiny floor and illuminating the entire ehapel with an almost divine brilliance. Shallow reliefs covered nearly every surface. Only half an inch deep, the detailed sculptures had been lost in the sludge. Raoden ran his fingers across one of the tiny masterpieces. the expressions on the people's faces so detailed as to be lifelike.
"They're amazing," he whispered.
"I didn't even know they were there, my lord," Kahar said, hobbling over to stand next to Raoden. "I didn't see them until I started cleaning, and then they were lost in the shadows until I finished the floor. The marble is so smooth it could be a mirror, and the windows are placed just right to catch the light."
"And the reliefs run all around the room?"
"Yes, my lord. Actually, this isn't the only building that has them. You'll occasionally run across a wall or a piece of furniture with carvings on it. They were probably common in Elantris before the Reod."
Raoden nodded. "It was the city of the gods, Kahar."
The old man smiled. His hands were black with grime, and a half-dozen ragged cleaning cloths hung from his sash. But he was happy.
"What next, my lord?" he asked eagerly.
Raoden paused, thinking quickly. Kahar had attacked the chapel's grime with the same holy indignation a priest used to destroy sin. For the first time in months, perhaps years, Kahar had been needed.
"Our people have started living in the nearby buildings, Kahar," Raoden said. "What good will all your cleaning here do if they track slime in every time we meet?"
Kahar nodded thoughtfully. "The cobblestones are a problem," he mumbled. "This is a big project, my lord." His eyes, however, were not daunted.
"I know." Raoden agreed. "But it is a desperate one. A people who live in filth will feel like filth—if we are ever going to rise above our opinions of ourselves, we are going to need to be clean. Can you do it?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Good. I'll assign you some workers to speed the process." Raoden's band had grown enormously over the last few days as the people of Elantris had heard of Karata's merger with him. Many of the random, ghostlike Elantrians who wandered the streets alone had begun to make their way to Raoden's band, seeking fellowship as a final, desperate attempt to avoid madness.
Kahar turned to go, his wrinkled face turning around the chapel one last time, admiring it with satisfaction.
"Kahar," Raoden called.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Do you know what it is? The secret. I mean?"
Kahar smiled. "I haven't been hungry in days, my lord. It is the most amazing feeling in the world—I don't even notice the pain anymore."
Raoden nodded, and Kahar left. The man had come looking for a magical solution to his woes, but he had found an answer much more simple. Pain lost its power when other things became more important. Kahar didn't need a potion or an Aon to save him—he just needed something to do.
Raoden strolled through the glowing room, admiring the different sculptures. He paused, however, when he reached the end of a particular relief. The stone was blank for a short section, its white surface polished by Kahar's careful hand. It was so clean, in fact, that Raoden could see his reflection.
He was stunned. The face that stared out of the marble was unknown to him. He had wondered why so few people recognized him; he had been prince of Arelon. his face known even in many of the outer plantations. He had assumed that the Elantrians simply didn't expect to find a prince in Elantris. so they didn't think to associate "Spirit" with Raoden. However, now that he saw the changes in his face, he realized that there was another reason people didn't recognize him.
There were hints in his features, clues to what had been. The changes, however, were drastic. Only two weeks had passed, but his hair had already fallen out. He had the usual Elantris blotches on his skin, but even the parts that had been flesh-toned a few weeks ago had turned a flat gray. His skin was wrinkling slightly, especially around the lips, and his eyes were beginning to take on a sunken look.